Variations
by Klondike Aura
Summary: There's more than one way to tell a story.
1. The End

Variations

A Princess Tutu fanfic by Klondike Aura

* * *

By all accounts, Lohengrin should be dead.

He's not sure what's sustaining him right now, how he found the strength to struggle upright and hold his cleaved body together. But he doesn't plan on wasting this. He staggers back to where he came from, glad that the Raven left him for dead. The Knight may not be able to do much right now, certainly not enough to help Siegfried, but he can do more with the Raven distracted by his conflict with the Prince.

"I'm a mess...aren't I?" he softly asks.

He smiles even as he gives a weak, blood-sputtering cough. He wheezes from the pain in his chest as he tries to just breathe. Somehow he manages to ease himself to the ground, resting against a tree in the deceptively peaceful woods just outside of the Raven's lair.

"I'm sorry... This is all...all I can do. But I'm happy...with you, Tutu..."

And with one last wavering gasp, the Knight dies.

* * *

Author's Notes: We're in for another multi-chapter story, folks! When did I start writing these longer pieces? I've got an idea for the frame and it still needs some filling out, but I wanted to put a teaser chapter up.


	2. Noticing

Duck hasn't been aging.

Fakir realizes this one day out by the pond. It's been a couple of years since the destruction of Drosselmeyer's writing machine but Duck hasn't aged at all, at least not that he can see. Shouldn't she be molting or something by now?

He tried not to think too much of these things; he never liked to consider the inevitable. But now that he actually was thinking of it, things seemed...off.

Were they still in a story?

He rubs his hand up the side of his nose and to his forehead. A new research project is surely on the horizon and it's guaranteed to bring some migraines with it.

"Quack?"

Duck waddles up to Fakir, a welcome distraction. He gives her a little half-smile.

"What are you up to, squirt?"

She huffs, bill straight up in the air. Well, he doesn't want that to change, either.


	3. Which One?

Autor never thought he would have to make any specifications when the library asked if he wanted to be on their roster of tutors. But this...

"No ducks," the music student says, adjusting his glasses.

"No ducks?" Fakir repeats, looking to his companion on his shoulder.

"I'm allergic to birds. If you want my help, that-"

"_She_," Fakir corrects.

"Fine, _she_ has to go."

Duck gives Fakir a reassuring pat with her wing. He glares at Autor before mumbling, "I'll meet you at the pond later."

She flutters down to the floor, departing for the door. Autor clears his throat and, despite his desire to ask how Fakir managed to train a duck so well, quells his questions in favor of passing a handkerchief to Fakir.

"She's clean," the danseur-turned-writer states, eyes narrowed.

"Do you want me to tutor you or not?" Autor presses.

Fakir scowls but takes the handkerchief and wipes the shoulder of his blazer. He offers it back but Autor holds up his hand in refusal.

"Keep it. Now, what do you need help with?"

"Hn. I'm doing a project on fairy tales and need some information on _The Prince and the Raven_."

But Autor's next words send a jolt of budding realization through Fakir.

"Which version?"


	4. Composite

"What?"

"Which. Version?" Autor repeats. "Which version of _The Prince and the Raven_ have you already covered and which version do you want to look at now?"

"There...there's more than one?"

Even Fakir has to wince at himself before Autor's exasperated sigh.

"My god, this is what you're working on for your thesis and you don't even know those bare basics? You should stick with ballet exclusively."

"Are you just going to rub my ignorance in my face or are you actually going to help?"

"Hmph. Fine."

With that, Autor retreats into the bookshelves. When he returns, he's carrying at least a dozen books. Fakir's eyes widen at the stack.

"All of these are...?"

Autor snorts. "No. But if you're covering _The Prince and the Raven_, you'll have to cover some other works with it. Especially where Drosselmeyer's version is concerned."

The music student takes a book from the top of one stack and sets it in front of Fakir with a heavy thump. Sure enough, it's Drosselmeyer's _Prinz und Rabe_.

"Who else wrote _The Prince and the Raven_?"

"Perrault wrote a story with the same basic story and elements. That inspired a salon piece by Madame d'Aulnoy," Autor explains, adjusting his glasses. "Those stories are experiencing a renewed popularity since they're more complete and self-contained than Drosselmeyer's mess of a tale. But Drosselmeyer has his share of fans with his fairy tale universe."

"You're a real Drosselmeyer fan, aren't you?" Fakir asks, fingers curled in front of his mouth to better hide his knowing expression.

Autor coughs and adjusts his glasses.

"Hn. What's this about a fairy tale universe?"

The musician, grateful for the shift in topic, goes back to the stacks and retrieves three books. "The characters in _Prinz und Rabe_, as Drosselmeyer wrote it, are composite characters."

He sets the books out before Fakir, two on Arthurian legend and one on Swan Lake.

"Would you believe Drosselmeyer's Knight is from the family that keeps the Holy Grail? Or that his brother-in-law was nearly doomed to the same fate as Odette?"


	5. Nightmare

Fakir has seen and heard Duck cry before, both when she was a human and when she was a duck. It's not something he likes but it's not exactly alarming, not like the strange noises that wake him up in the middle of the night.

It takes some time for Fakir to shake drowsiness off even in the face of Duck's frantic sobs. He's hesitant to pick her up, looking her over in his somewhat panicked state in case she's injured. But then she flutters out of her basket and right into his chest, as if trying to cling to him.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" he asks, carefully cradling her. When that doesn't seem to make things any worse, he holds her tighter and softly strokes her feathers. "It's all right. You're all right, Duck."

His words and touch are soothing but Duck still can't shake her nightmare. She had dreamed of Fakir's death before but this time everything was far too real, far too much. It's one thing to see the mime for death but this time the Raven had-

She nuzzles her small body closer to him, wishing she could just hold him back.

"Fakir?" Charon calls from the other side of the door. "Is something wrong?"

"Duck's upset," he answers, not stopping his ministrations.

"That's Duck? I've never heard a duck make sounds like that before."

"I'll take care of her," Fakir insists.

Duck calms down enough for them to hear Charon's departing footsteps. Fakir keeps murmuring soothing nothings to her, lulling her back to sleep while wondering what spooked her so badly.


	6. The End Again

The Knight could finally notice something besides the blinding pain. He struggles to breathe as he gathers his bearings for his final moments. The Prince and the Raven have moved on, giving him some peace. And yet he finds he's not alone.

"So this..." he wheezes. "This is what...has become of you...Tutu..."

There was no mistaking it. Despite her small, yellow-feathered form, the duckling had Tutu's beautiful blue eyes. They were so caught up with the Raven's taunts that they must have-

"Please...don't cry, my love..." Lohengrin weakly murmurs as Tutu nuzzles near him, her strange, quacking sobs halting his muddled thoughts. He can barely move his thumb when she presses her small head against his hand but it's enough to wipe away her tears.

One thing becomes clear in his mind: This place is not safe for her.

He wills himself to take his hand away from her and force his body somewhat up. She quacks and flaps her wings in protest.

"I must...take you out of...of here," he insists. He cradles her in the crook of his arm as he literally pulls himself together. "You must...find safety...find my father..."

The Knight fights his way to his feet, grimacing in mortal pain as he makes himself take each step out of the Raven's lair.

"I'm a mess...aren't I?"

* * *

Author's Notes: Or where I try to justify what I've got going on here. Essentially, the entire story started with the particular idea that there was more to Princess Tutu after turning into a speck of light and (apparently) vanishing. Admittedly, it feels pretty retcon-y to me. But some ideas just won't leave you alone.


	7. Rebirth

"You shouldn't have those books here," Autor complains.

Fakir doesn't even look up from his reading on his usual spot by the pond. "If they get wet, I'll replace them."

"If you treat them with more care, that won't be an issue."

"I'm more concerned about staying with Duck."

The musician scoffs. "You call her Duck? How original."

"That's her name."

"Mm. And what do you call your other ducks?"

"I don't have any other ducks."

Autor adjusts his glasses and insists, "Of course you do. Everyone's seen you carrying one of your ducks with you to school for the past two years or so and it's always a duckling. It can't possibly be the same duck; she would be too old by now."

"She is."

"And I suppose next you'll tell me she's actually Princess Tutu."

"Of course not," Fakir answers, still not looking up from the book. "She's as much Princess Tutu as I am Sir Lohengrin."

About then, Duck swims to the side of the dock and flutters up.

"Just make sure she doesn't get the books wet," Autor says as he turns to leave, lest his allergies get the best of him.

Fakir sighs after Autor's gone, fingers resting on the pages that would always be missing from Drosselmeyer's tale both by the author's choice and the bookmen's work. "So that's it. That's why you're what you are. It's just like-"

His hand goes to his shoulder, rubbing where his birthmark lies under his clothes. Between the two, he wonders which one of them got the better reincarnation. It's one thing to be helpless about your own horrible death but another to be helpless about someone else's horrible death.

Fakir closes the book just in time for Duck to hop up into his lap and nuzzle in close. Ever since she woke him up in the middle of the night, she's been reluctant to leave his side for very long.

"I wonder if that's what you dreamed about," he murmurs mostly to himself.


	8. The Invitation

Big revelations are strange creatures. Sometimes they come like an earthquake, rattling the foundations of everything known and established, causing irreparable damage to all it touches.

But sometimes they creep into life and quietly make themselves at home so seamlessly that it's almost like they didn't happen.

And the latter is how life goes on for Duck and Fakir for some time, in part because they're not quite sure what they can do about it. Duck may be Princess Tutu reborn but there isn't an obvious course of action to follow that knowledge.

But then they receive the letter. Or rather, the invitation.

"You and your pet duck got a letter," Charon calls, holding out the heavy, ornate parchment with a bemused smile on his face.

Fakir matches it with his own look of curiosity as he takes the envelope. Duck flies up to sit on his shoulder, watching as he opens the wax-sealed back and takes out the enclosed letter and card.

Charon smiles; if he didn't know better, he'd say the duck was actually reacting to the letter and much happier about whatever news it held than Fakir. She didn't at all try to hide her fluttering or joyous quacking right in his son's ear.

"Well, what's she so excited about?" he asks, pointing to the duck.

"We've been invited to our friends' wedding."

"'We'? Both you and your duck?"

Fakir holds the card out for Charon to see, which clearly states in looping script that yes, both he and Duck are invited to the wedding of-

"'Prince Siegfried and Princess Rue'?" the blacksmith wonders aloud. "This isn't some kind of joke, is it?"

"I know who sent it," his son replies, shrugging the shoulder not holding the duck. "He's kind of...fond of fairy tales, you might say. But if he says he's getting married, there's going to be a wedding. And I'm sure I'll never hear the end of it from him or Duck if we don't attend."

Charon shakes his head, still smiling, as he says, "You have some fairly eccentric friends, Fakir. So, will you have to travel far to get to this fairy tale wedding?"

Fakir ends up smiling so wide at the question that he's in danger of showing teeth. "I'll let you know when we depart but we likely won't be going far and it won't be too long a stay."

"I suppose sometimes that's all a father can ask for."


	9. Reunion

Once the swan-drawn chariot clears the mountain, everything spreads out before them. The cold, blue rushing river outlines the sweeping green valley. Little houses of brick and stone dot the landscape, pressing in closer together as the streets turn from dirt to cobblestone. White banners adorn the shops and line the pathway to the castle. The seemingly doll-sized citizens bustle about in excitement, a few of them looking up and pointing out the golden chariot streaking through the sky like a shooting star.

There's no denying it: Siegfried's kingdom is beautiful.

"Don't jump out, moron," Fakir complains as he tries to contain the excited Duck. "You might get lost."

She huffs but tries to stay still in Fakir's arms. She doesn't know how he can be so calm when everything here is just so amazing! Even the people down below are shouting with abandon as they begin their descent to the castle.

The swan smoothly lands in a pool in the courtyard, the chariot behind gently splashing and bobbing. The few in the courtyard turn at the arrival. Most return to their business as quickly as they looked, though one woman hurries into the castle and a young man wearing glasses pauses to mark something down.

Duck flutters out first, rushing forward in her awkward waddle to the castle. Fakir carefully steps out after her just as the minor commotion lures out the royal couple. Duck leaps up just in time for Mytho to catch her.

It was a little too perfect.


	10. Talk Over Tea

"I never would have guessed," Mytho muses as his fingers stroke the feathers on Duck's head. "But then, I didn't guess that she was Princess Tutu before, either."

"I wonder why we've never heard any variations of the story," Rue wonders.

"It was probably a result of being in Drosselmeyer's story," Fakir responds over the tea they provided. "As far as we were concerned, other versions might as well have been other realities. But now that Drosselmeyer's part is done, those realities are possible again."

Mytho frowns even as he tickles under Duck's beak. "But why would they be at work now? Have you been writing on them, Fakir?"

Fakir shakes his head. "I think... I think it has to do with us not following the roles Drosselmeyer set down for us. Autor had said Drosselmeyer's characters are composite characters, so the histories that others had put down were present, even if we didn't know it."

"Hmm..." Rue hums. "Like Sleeping Beauty."

"Like Sleeping Beauty?" Mytho echoes, stopping in his affections towards Duck and taking Rue's hand.

"Well, how much does Aurora do once she's actually asleep? But even though she's sleeping, she's still present, still important."

The Prince nods at his Princess's words before turning to Fakir. "This does establish Princess Tutu's curse. But do we have any idea about a cure?"

"Not a clue," Fakir admits, reaching his hand out as Duck waddles back to him on the table.

Mytho brings his hands together, resting his elbows on the table and putting his chin on his hands. Rue moves her hand to sit on his shoulder.

"Do we want to try figuring anything out before the wedding?" Mytho asks with a glance at his Princess.

Rue looks from Duck to Fakir and back, worrying the corner of her lip in concentration. She leans over and whispers something in Mytho's ear. He nods and gives her a small kiss in response, making her blush.

"Quaaaaa..." Duck coos.

Mytho laughs and goes, "In the meantime, we'll make arrangements for a place to stay."


	11. Mystery

Sir Parsifal rides swiftly through the woods, though the journey is not one of pleasure or even hunting. It's been days since his son, the Prince, and the Princess left for their confrontation. The wait was excruciating and it wasn't long before Parsifal took it upon himself to learn what happened.

A small spot of yellow distracts Parsifal and he stops the horse, who rears back with a booming neigh. The older knight dismounts and crouches low to the dejected little duck.

"What are you doing out here, little one?" he wonders, gently scooping the duckling up. "This place is not safe; this is the territory of the Raven."

This sets the duck frantically quacking and gesticulating with her wings, indicating that they continue in the direction Parsifal was headed. Parsifal isn't sure how to react at first when he notices the creature has tears sitting in her eyes. He eventually brushes a gentle thumb against her to take the tears away.

"What could lie up ahead?" he queries to himself.

Parsifal continues on foot only to find the tree. The duck leaps from his arms and ahead, making the strangest noises the older knight has ever heard any bird make in his life. But then he chokes as he recognizes the body slumped against the trunk.

"Lohengrin..."

Parsifal is no longer able knight but frantic father, falling to his knees and grabbing his son by the shoulders. His trembling grows worse as the stiff, cold corpse comes apart where the Raven tore into the Knight.

He finishes his crying before the duckling, somehow finding the strength to stand again and go to his horse. Parsifal finds a length of canvas and carefully wraps his son in the makeshift shroud. The emotionally draining work complete, the older knight scans his surroundings.

"Something is amiss here."

He didn't notice it before but the woods are strangely empty. There is no looming influence of the Raven. Could it be that Prince Siegfried was victorious? But then, why has he not returned?

He puts Lohengrin on the horse and picks the duck up again, uttering quiet reassurances as he continues his investigation. But even inside the Raven's lair, there's no sign of the Raven, his crows, or Prince Siegfried alive or dead.

Parsifal shakes his head at the mystery.

"Let's take our leave of this place for now, little one," he murmurs.

And Sir Parsifal rides out of the woods, unhappy with task ahead of him.


	12. The Older Knight

Duck had to admit, she was surprised.

She had known for some time that Fakir was the Knight reborn, of course, but it never occurred to her that he might _look_ like Sir Lohengrin. There was no mistaking the reaction of the Knight's family. The woman Duck saw before in the courtyard clutches her hand to her gasping mouth, her shock renewed at seeing the pair again, and her husband's eyes grow wide and almost shaking with disbelief.

But even more surprising was Fakir's reaction mirroring theirs. She feels a tremble through the arm otherwise securely holding her and hears him gulp with restrained distress.

"You," the father begins. "You are Prince Siegfried's guests?"

Fakir moves his head just enough to be perceived as a nod.

The older knight goes to comfort his wife, taking her by the waist and her free hand, before continuing, "You'll have to bear with my wife and me, I'm afraid. Through no fault of your own you-" He laughs a little with a small shake of his head. "You look like our son."

"No, I understand," Fakir gets out, strained. "The two of you... You look...you look like my parents."

"Oh dear," the Knight's mother softly sighs. She moves in her husband's hold, as if wanting to go and comfort Fakir, but his hands hold her all the tighter so she doesn't lose herself in grief.

"We understand if you'd rather not stay with us," the Knight's father tells the young man and the duck. "My wife had made the suggestion but..."

"It's..." Fakir starts, though he's unsure how to continue. He wants to say it's fine but is it really? "We'll have to see you at the wedding anyway," he switches. "It's probably for the best for us to get used to each other now."

The Knight's father hesitates a moment before nodding. "I am Parsifal," he introduces. "And my wife, Blanchefleur."

Duck quacks and gestures with her wing.

"Fakir," he replies. "And this is Duck."

* * *

"What was Tutu like?" Fakir asks.

Parsifal laughs and shakes his head a little as he continues his morning's work sharpening his arrowheads. "Tutu was a strange change, initially unwelcome and unexpected but not unappreciated. I remember Lohengrin's reaction when he learned she was visiting. 'I don't see why we have to put up with that inconsequential bit of nonsense.'"

Duck gives the Knight's words a quack-like huff while Fakir suppresses a laugh.

"Did he always think that way about her?"

"Oh no. It was a slow change but eventually he warmed up to the Princess. He even fell in love with her."

Now it was Duck's turn to laugh at Fakir's strange fidgeting.

"Is that so funny, little one?" Parsifal asks, tickling Duck under her beak.

"Hn. Can't imagine Tutu or Siegfried taking that well," Fakir says, trying not to scowl too much.

"Believe it or not, the three were inseparable. I asked Lohengrin if it ever bothered him and he was just- Well, he said that saying it never bothered him would be a lie but that it didn't bother him as much as I might think. For the most part, he was just glad that Tutu loved him at all, even if it wasn't romantic. And that was certainly true; Tutu always accepted Lohengrin, never belittling him or his feelings for her. It was a relationship the likes of which I'll probably never see again."

Parsifal gives out a small, quiet sigh over his arrows.

"Did she ever tell him about her curse?" the young writer questions.

"Some, at least, but I don't know everything Lohengrin knew."

"Do you know what happened to the duckling?"

The older knight nods. "I found her and brought her here. She stayed by the house for the rest of her days."

Fakir holds his tongue despite his curiosity about Princess Tutu's end. Did she die of natural causes or did something else happen? But he's aware of Duck in his arms and his hold on her tightens ever so slightly.


	13. The Lady and the Auspex

"Perhaps you need to speak to the Auspex," Lady Blanchefleur suggests one morning as she clears the breakfast table.

Fakir raises his brow in curiosity, unfamiliar with the term. "Auspex?" Like auspicious?

"Mm. He is an oracle who divines fortunes from watching birds and he taught Prince Siegfried everything he knows about swans. If anyone can figure out the exact nature of Duck's situation, he probably can."

The pair from Gold Crown glance at each other, one sitting at the table and the other sitting on the table. After a moment, Duck gives Fakir a confident nod.

"Where can we find him?" the young man asks.

"All you have to do is follow the river west," the Knight's mother answers. "Believe me when I say you can't miss him. There's no mistaking the congregation of birds. The trip itself only takes the better part of a day."

Fakir mulls over the calculations and comes to the conclusion that they have enough time to at least consult the Auspex before the wedding. He stands with a resolute nod and picks Duck up, placing her in the crook of his arm.

"Then we should be off. Thank you for your hospitality and information."

"Lohengrin-"

Fakir had just turned to leave when Blanchefleur calls the wrong name. He jerks back around but he doesn't lash out at her for the mistake. On the contrary, his lips automatically press together to sound out an M and he nearly bites his tongue to keep from making the same faux pas.

Blanchefleur silently jaws for a moment, her apology refusing to find voice. She gives up shortly after and amends her blunder with, "Please be careful."

"We will," Fakir answers with a brief nod. "We will come back."

* * *

"Oh."

Fakir wishes he was as surprised as Duck.

"Can I help you?" the unfortunately familiar-looking boy asks, adjusting his glasses as he surveys the two before him.

"We've come to see the Auspex."

"Again, can I help you?" the boy repeats curtly.

Fakir resists scoffing. "I was expecting someone more experienced."

The boy who is not Autor narrows his eyes and takes out a small notebook. He begins writing before going, "I have been training under the previous Auspex for ten years and I can assure you I'm able to answer any questions you might have."

"Hn. What happened to the previous Auspex?"

"Forced into retirement the way all of us are," he explains with a wave of his quill. "The nature of the work means developing an allergy to the birds we keep. Now, what has brought you here?"

"Qua..." Duck softly sighs.

The Auspex leans just a little closer to her, making Fakir bristle slightly, and murmurs, "Oh. I think I see. There is a lot to you, isn't there?"


	14. Motivation

Fakir regrets the terms of staying with the Auspex.

He couldn't really object; if they wanted to have any sort of progress with Duck, the Auspex had to spend time with her. That didn't mean he had to like getting stuck with the chores associated with caring for the birds in the sanctuary, however. He also didn't like getting stuck alone to think on the Auspex's words.

"_Are you sure this is what she wants?"_

"_What?" Fakir had said, jerking his head up from watching Duck swim with the other birds._

"_To have Princess Tutu's curse reversed," the Auspex explained, adjusting his glasses. "Is this something for her or something for you?"_

_He opened his mouth to speak but the 'Of course!' that wanted to come out just couldn't._

"_Hmmm," the Auspex hummed. "I'm not sure I managed to catch your name."_

_Fakir's tongue had hit the roof of his mouth before he answered and he briefly wondered where the hell that urge came from._

"_Well, Fakir, I think you should consider the answer to my question while I ask Duck what she wants."_

The question weaves in and out of Fakir's mind as he sweeps the filth out of the housing, distracting him from the stink of the waste. Why is he doing this? Why is this so important?

Is he losing focus?

* * *

Duck waddles across the table, glancing at the spread of the day's notes. Some pages were filled to spilling over while others had more space for drawings of Duck and her gestures. The Auspex strokes the feathers on her head with his free hand while tapping his quill over his work.

"Am I understanding you correctly so far?" he asks while she looks over the notes. "You're more complex than the creatures I normally communicate with, Duck. And your memory is simply astounding."

Duck quacks with a nod and gives him a pat with her wing.

The notes take shape like puzzle pieces, the elements of her story sitting on the table waiting to be assembled. The Auspex rubs his nose, in part to reassure himself that he's still wearing his glasses. Some parts read sharper and clearer than others, half due to what Duck herself remembers and half due to what he can understand of Duck's strange, self-crafted language. A bird familiar with speaking in human tongue makes for an interesting marriage of language.

The Auspex sighs and goes, "I hate to say this but we would probably have better luck if I could teach Fakir what I know. But I don't know what sort of time frame you have to work with. You plan on returning soon for the royal wedding, correct?"

Duck gestures with her wing, conveying an unwavering yes.

He sits back a moment, treading down a different path in his mind.

"Duck, I think I know you about as well as I can in our short time. And I imagine you're exhausted by the relentless questions."

He laughs lightly when she nods.

"How about we just talk for a little while?"

* * *

The Auspex is waiting as Fakir returns from the chores.

"Well?" Fakir asks. "Have you found how to reverse it?"

The Auspex nods and goes, "I believe I have."

"And?"

"And you are oddly important, Fakir."

"What do you mean by that? What do I have to do?"

"Not important like that," the Auspex clarifies, waving away his concern as they step inside for supper. "It could turn into important like that but it's not what I meant."


	15. Sleepless

"Is that all you've got?" Fakir asks over the bread and vegetables he knows he's not going to finish.

The Auspex levels a firm look at him through glaring spectacles before answering, "The fact that I can give you a solution to try at all despite not knowing the source or precise details of the curse is a step in the right direction, wouldn't you say?"

Fakir turns in his chair, sitting sideways and crossing his arms. "Reciprocation?"

"Yes. I think our answer lies somewhere in there."

"Hn. Nothing else?"

"I thought you might have some ideas about that."

Fakir turns his head back towards the Auspex, his ire dulled slightly.

"Duck has told me you are a writer," the Auspex continues, taking a moment to remove his glasses and wipe them with a handkerchief. "She's said you're familiar with curses and their cures as a result. You could likely provide an actual course of action better than I can."

Fakir opens his mouth but the words he wants refuse to be found, leaving him with his jaw hanging a moment before he has the decency to close it.

The Auspex replaces his glasses and goes, "I'm merely a compass right now. And I've pointed you in the direction you need to go."

And with that, he stands and clears the table, letting out a little tsk at the food left on Fakir's plate.

* * *

Duck huddles with the other sleeping birds, unable to drift off herself. She's had plenty of time to remember what it's like to be a duck but she can't remember sleeping with so many of her kind before. The sensation of loneliness unexpectedly creeps into her as the minutes meander past.

Why did it suddenly seem so important to be out here? To talk with the Auspex and find a way to become a girl again? She couldn't deny that it's what she wanted right now but the reasons escape her literal featherbrain.

Her mind wanders to her nightmare of before, Fakir torn asunder at the claw of the Raven. She lets out a quavering quack as she turns over every unbidden detail: his last mortal cry, the visceral sound of being rend in twain, the heavy finite thud his body makes connecting with the hard earth, the final grimace of pain before death relaxes the features of his face. And even though she tries telling herself again and again that it's only a dream, she can't stay with the other fowl tonight.

The grass is cool and makes a soothing hush under Duck's webbed feet as she waddles to the small house in the sanctuary. The Auspex, as is his wont, busies himself outside in his observation and care of his nocturnal wards. The owls hoot in acknowledgment as Duck makes her slow way inside.

* * *

Fakir sits up in his bed, his back against the wall while he idly stares out the window. Supper plays back over and over in his head, retracing his steps and looking for a key he's clearly lost.

He should have been able to say something. He's spent countless days in the library, hours upon hours absorbing all of the books he could find in order to hone his craft. He should have a least a dozen ways to cure a curse, minimum, with complications taken into account. So why does he hit a wall every time he tries to summon one up?

Fakir scowls when something finally does make itself known in his consciousness. He'd rather not give it any consideration but the Auspex has been little to no help. It's funny in a way, having to resort to the other when one isn't working. With a defeated sigh, he pulls himself out of bed.

When Duck finds Fakir, he's standing straight and still in the middle of the room, neither of them really sure how long he's been like that. He barely even notices her presence until she softly nudges at his ankle with the tip of her wing. She backs off, ready for him to start or collapse, but instead he calmly turns his head down towards her.

"I thought I would try Autor's technique to concentrate," he reluctantly admits.

Duck nudges him again with a firm, "Quack!" letting him know what she thinks of that idea.

Fakir gets down on one knee and gently picks her up. "Couldn't sleep either?"

She rests her head against his chest and he feels her nod once before they simply rest on the floor together.


	16. Swept Away

It was unlike anything Fakir had ever seen before.

Once they bid farewell to the Auspex and his sanctuary, Duck got antsier and antsier the closer they got to Siegfried's castle. She's been excited before but the fast-approaching wedding must be working her up even worse. She rarely allowed him to carry her, trying to flutter along and waddle as fast as her little legs could carry her.

_Of course she would be frantic. The Prince is about to get married._

Fakir stops in his tracks a moment at the sudden foreign thought. A sinking feeling of realization washes over him, making him sick to his stomach.

"Duck," he says, throat suddenly dry. "Duck, we have to leave."

Her hesitation weighs down on him before she flails and quacks in response.

"I don't think we should stay," Fakir continues, picking her up again despite her winging about. "I don't know if we should even go to the wedding."

"Quaaaa-!"

Duck flaps her way out of his grasp with a huff and stubbornly flies towards the castle. Fakir tries to keep up but Duck has grown surprisingly fast. Finally, in a last ditch, he risks letting his mind have its way and cries out, "Tutu, come back!"

They stood still, Duck stopping in midair and falling straight to the ground. Fakir recovers first and rushes to pick her up.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs to her, cradling her close and softly stroking her feathers. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think we'd get stuck like this. I didn't know..."

She tries to pat him back with her wings, attempting to reassure him even as she was reeling. He shakes his head, dizzy and no longer able to resist the pull of the story.

"I'm sorry if I ever forced anything on you or made a choice you didn't want," Fakir whispers. "All I really want... all I really want is for you to be happy. I- I want you to be able to dance again, the way you did before. Even if it means I couldn't, I want you to be able to dance."


	17. Merry Confusion

"What happened?"

Talking feels so strange, words oddly heavy in her mouth. It was the first time Duck had spoken in human words in so long. Her familiar slender frame trembles from the lingering warmth of changing, shaking the wisps of red hair hanging in her face.

"I- I don't know," Fakir stammers. "I don't know what's happening, Tutu. Duck. I don't know what I did or you did or the story did."

He grasps the girl's hands and helps her to her feet. Fortunately, he doesn't have to avert his eyes, the transformation somehow leaving Duck dressed in a simple white gown.

"Lo...no, Fakir," she gets out. "What do you think it was?"

"I really don't know," he says again. "I haven't been able to figure out anything."

"You didn't mean what you said, did you?" she pleads. "We can still go to the Prince's wedding, right?"

"The Pr- yes, we can still go to Mytho's wedding. Wait, no, no, we can't."

"Why not?!" Duck cries out even as Fakir walks on. She turns and beats feet to catch up to him. "Why not when that's the whole reason we came here?!"

"Because we aren't controlling our actions anymore, not completely."

"But what's left of the story now?" she presses.

Fakir slows and turns around. That's a very good question, actually. What _is_ left of the story now? It's not _Prinz und Rabe_ anymore, certainly not the way Drosselmeyer wrote it. But it's not really any other variation, either. It can't be, not if there's still a knight present in Lohengrin's role.

All of that grows fuzzier as he looks over Duck. It was so long ago since he saw Duck as a human. Having her here now breathed new life into every memory. He should have been kinder to her. He should have been more honest with her about everything. He should have spent more time with her when she was a human. He should have-

But now she's here. She's here and redheaded and blue-eyed and freckled and scrawny and everything else he missed so much about her.

Can he honestly deny her the one thing she wants right now? The very thought of hurting her in any way brings heartache, a hook pulling his insides.

His mind puts up some protest but her hopeful blue eyes quell the argument.

"All right," Fakir says, his mouth betraying his attempts to remain under control.

* * *

"Duck!"

"Oh Rue!"

Rue throws her arms around Duck, swaying them both in joy. They kept talking over each other, eager to make up for lost time spent in silence. The Princess leads Duck away, Rue insisting along the way that Duck's outfit for the wedding will have to be changed now and surely she has something that can fit her.

Mytho, however, has other plans, silently nodding to Fakir to follow him.

"I'm not sure what you did, Fakir," the Prince begins when they're alone in the throne room. He chuckles when his old friend scoffs and continues with, "Don't be like that. I'm not sure what you did but the proof is clear. The curse that Princess Tutu was under has been reversed."

"But I don't know what did it, either," Fakir protests.

Mytho holds his hand up. "Curses don't just undo themselves, Fakir. It takes sacrifice, a great giving of the self."

Fakir hangs his head, his heart sinking lower and lower the more Mytho heaped praise upon him. He protests again but the Prince quiets him once more.

"Do not let a past of wrongs invalidate the rights you commit now," Mytho tells him.

But while Fakir debated on whether he _had_ done anything right or not, the weight of Mytho's hand forces him down to his knees. He barely feels the taps of the sword on his shoulders, half-dazed.

"Rise, Sir Fakir."


	18. Given and Borrowed

The murmurs were making things worse.

"Oh, what a beautiful princess!"

"She must be a friend of the bride."

"You don't think she's Princess Tutu, do you?"

"Has anyone seen her since Sir Parsifal found her?"

"But isn't that Sir Parsifal's son escorting her?"

"It couldn't be. Sir Lohengrin fell."

"He's in knight's raiment. And he looks just like Sir Lohengrin."

"I wonder if he feel-"

Fakir cuts off that whisperer with a glare.

"...he even glowers like Sir Lohengrin."

* * *

Duck sways with the music as she watches Mytho and Rue share their first dance. They were always good partners but now both of them move with such happiness, such love. She's so caught up in bouncing to the song that she hardly notices when their dance is over until a well-dressed young man, likely a member of the court, taps her on the shoulder.

"Pardon me but may I have this dance?" he asks, offering his hand.

"Ah-! Oh! I mean-" Duck stammers, raising her hands in front of her face and shaking her head. "I'm not any good at dancing! I'm sure you wouldn't have any fun dancing with me!"

The courtier chuckles softly. "I don't mind if you're not good at dancing. Won't you please dance with me?"

Duck hesitates once again before giving a glance to Fakir. When he shrugs in response, she sheepishly puts her hand in the courtier's.

Fakir smiles when he sees Duck begin to loosen up and enjoy herself on the dance floor. The sway of her skirt and the bend of her arm is captivating. She's smooth on her feet, each step a natural progression. She flits and flutters on her toes. She leaps with her legs outstretched. He has to admit, Duck is really good at ballet.

The Knight starts when his mind reaches that thought. When did that happen?

Another courtier approaches Duck asking for a dance once the next song ends. The crowd is captivated, giving Fakir an opportunity to slip out into the courtyard.

Fakir tries not to let fear freeze him up. He forces his mind to slow down and focus on his breathing as he stretches. How...how does he stretch again?

_Just skip it_, he mentally chides himself._ I'm as relaxed and focus as I'm going to be in this state. Just get on with it._

Fakir puts himself in first position and pushes his head down to look at his feet as they awkwardly stick out.

_No._

Second position, his arms shaking as he extends them in a jerky motion. Third position, arm bent without any hint of grace and feet threatening to trip him even as he stays still. He can't even manage to twist himself into fourth or fifth. The reality of the situation is too strong right now.

_Even if I couldn't..._

So that's what he sacrificed, his reciprocation.

* * *

Duck finally excuses herself from dancing, well tired and surprised at her own skill. It's as if some amazing dream has come true tonight, leaving her giddy. She finds her way out to the courtyard just as Fakir gives up on his attempts to dance.

"Ah, needed some air, too?" she asks after a moment, suddenly quite nervous once the words leave her lips. Fakir is a very private person, after all, and he might have wanted his time alone.

This feeling grows when he turns his head to her, his expression muted as he responds, "Yeah."

"Do you... did you want me to go?" Duck asks, wringing the front of her skirt a little.

"No!" Fakir answers, turning the rest of his body to face her. "No, you can stay."

Duck smiles and takes a step closer to him. "Did you... I mean, I know I'm just... I'm not really Princess Tutu or anything but... Did you want to dance?"

He smiles for her sake. "Aren't you tired?"

"I just need a little break," she insists, taking yet another step. And then, thoughtfully, "You know, we never really had a good dance."

Fakir considers protesting but, the more he thinks about the Lake of Despair, the more he realizes she's right. It summons a lump in his throat, knowing they won't be able to dance like that under any better circumstances.

"No. We didn't."

Duck smiles up at him hopefully before circling her hands over her head. It takes a moment for Fakir to understand that she's asking him in dance what she asked before in words. He takes the hand she offers but doesn't move beyond that, confusing her.

No matter how many times he sees that expression, it never fails to charm him.

"I'm sorry but I can't," he finally answers. "Not tonight."

"No?"

"No."

Duck's face falls and Fakir's heart twists.

"Is it- is it me?" she asks.

"Of course not. You're beautiful." He presses on even as she softly takes in a breath. "You are. And kind. And I love you."

They're still for some time after the confession, neither willing to pull away as the meaning sinks in deeper and deeper. Eventually the Knight takes his hand back and manages to bow to her. One step backwards becomes two, then three, and somehow he keeps from stumbling as he turns and takes his leave of the courtyard with the intention of parsing out these events in his quarters.

Duck trembles as Fakir departs, far more unsure now than she was before.


	19. During the Night

The ballroom sits in dark and silence, holding only the memory of merrymaking that happened inside hours before. All waits for the dawn.

All except Fakir as he steals away in the night.

His feet heavily tromp through the courtyard, his easy danseur's grace now permanently gone. He chides himself and Prince Siegfried's decision, the Knight running from castle and court and love.

"You're just leaving? Without her?"

Rue's sudden presence and question stop Fakir in his tracks. He can't bring himself to say a thing.

"Why?" the Princess presses.

"Why does that matter?" the Knight asks back.

"You're breaking your word to Duck."

Fakir fixes a piercing glare on her. "I don't need you to remind me of that."

"Then stop this."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

The Knight remains there, silent.

"Answer me, Fakir," Rue snarls.

"Because I'm not the Prince, all right?" Fakir weakly replies. "And I'm never going to be the Prince..."

"How could you say-?" Rue starts.

"Because Duck can't, Duck won't. And you know she won't. She can accept her own unrequited love, however much it may hurt her. But how do you think she'd feel if she had to put up with mine along with that? How do you think _I'd_ feel putting that on her? It's already bad enough that I've told her when I don't know how much of it is the story and how much is the real me."

"Liar."

Fakir didn't say anything about Rue's rebuke, knowing full well that he deserved it. But the silence after doesn't help any, either.

"I can't burden her by being with her," the Knight quietly admits.

"I won't just sit idle and watch you hurt her," the Princess bites back.

But he shakes his head before turning around and stalking away. "I'm going to hurt her either way. I might as well choose the way that will hurt her the least."

"Then you're choosing wrong!" Rue shouts to Fakir's retreating back.

She doesn't stay any longer, returning to the castle even as she hears the swan and chariot leave the ground.

* * *

"My Princess?"

Mytho crawls out of bed when Rue returns to the door, gingerly rubbing her shoulders when she's close.

"What's brought such a dour expression on this happy night?"

Rue sighs and responds, "Your Knight, who has taken it upon himself to leave alone."

"Fakir has gone? Without Duck?"

She nods. "I don't see what difference he thinks it's going to make. It won't prevent Duck from returning to Gold Crown."

"Hmmm," the Prince thoughtfully hums before pressing a kiss to the back of his Princess's head. "Fakir's not thinking clearly, Rue. Perhaps he just needs some time by himself."

Rue frowns even as she leans on her groom. "I'm not looking forward to how Duck will take this."

"Neither am I. But it would hurt her more if we keep it from her." Mytho shakes his head a little. "It looks like Fakir will probably get what he wants, though."

"What?" Rue turns in his hold. "You're not thinking of keeping her here, are you?"

"Only if she wants to stay, in which case of course we'll welcome her. But I mean she might want some time away from Fakir if this is the way he's going to act."

Rue nearly laughs at that. "I can't see her taking this sitting still. She might want to confront Fakir immediately."

"I suppose we'll just have to see in the morning." Mytho wraps his arms around her. "No sense in disturbing her sleep."

* * *

Duck tosses and turns, the events of the night playing in her head over and over. The questions of what, why, and how play in her mind, pressing down her very being. She fitfully curls her fingers in the quilt, her heart aching.

_"...and I love you."_

Duck's dreamed of love confessions but has never received one like this before. Suddenly things have shifted. Suddenly she must respond. But what to say? What to do? What does the Knight mean to her?

Somehow the wedding didn't weigh on her the same way, even if it meant the Prince is now forever beyond grasp. To see him and Rue together, that was right. She loves them both. She loves them together. But where does that leave her and Fakir?

How long has he felt this way about her? And how does she feel about him?

Does she love him?

She eventually drifts into dreamless slumber without an answer.


	20. Alone

"Welcome back."

Fakir frowns at Charon's greeting, feeling it undeserved. What has he done to merit any sort of welcome or fondness, especially now? He stands still as Charon puts an arm around him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

The blacksmith's mind churns with questions too obvious to ask and sure to keep Fakir as quiet as he is now. _You don't look like you've just been to a friend's wedding. What happened? Where is your duck? Why...?_

His mental searching fruitless, he asks the one thing he feels the most appropriate to ask: "How was it?"

"Fine," Fakir answers automatically. "It was fine."

"Well," Charon replies, not expecting anything else. "Imagine you're hungry from your trip. Come on."

And the ensuing peace smothers the seeds of conversation for the rest of the night.

* * *

Despite efforts to keep the rumors as discreet as possible, Gold Crown Academy hums and buzzes. Fakir, the best danseur in the ballet division, dropping out this semester from a long-term, possibly career ending injury? The ballerinas at every level wail and gnash their teeth at the very thought.

But proof arrives. Erina from the advanced class shoulders Fakir as they make their way through the courtyard, the melodramatic cries of the ballet division echoing behind them. Somehow Erina holds back from lashing her tongue.

At least until she gently drops Fakir at the pond.

"What is this about?" she demands, gold eyes faintly flashing.

Fakir sits up and rubs at the bridge of his nose. "Can't it wait, Erina?"

"No. You asked me to help you out of the office. I want to know why."

She glares, inwardly wondering why it's weighing him down more than she normally can. They're not exactly close friends but, after some time being the top two students in the advanced class, it's only natural for a sort of camaraderie to come about.

"Are you actually hurt?" Erina presses, only the slightest bit softer. "Or just sick? Your balance is really off."

Fakir grimaces with an exhausted exhale. "I can't dance anymore."

"Where did this come from all of a sudden?"

He shakes his head. "There's just too much to it. The short version is I can't dance."

"Well, when can you?" the ballerina asks.

"I. Can't. That isn't changing. Ever."

Erina frowns and tilts her head towards him. "You can't be serious."

"Please stop," Fakir implores.

"You expect me to believe something like that, Fakir? With no rhyme or reason to it?"

"Why don't you just go?"

"Hmph! Fine. I'll leave you with your ducks." Erina huffs before she stomps away.

Finally alone for the first time since returning to Gold Crown, Fakir pulls his knee to his chest and rests his head against it.

_This_, he tells himself, _is the way things should be_.


	21. Pas de Deux

"Your form is really good."

Duck turns her head at Rue's comment while they both stretch their legs on the barre. The corners of the Princess's mouth slightly point upward.

"It's not- I mean- It's only just-" Duck stammers. "It's not any different than what I used to do only- only it's like my body knows better now."

"Like it's doing what you want it to do?" Rue asks.

Duck inspects her ankle instead of looking at her friend. Rue eases out of her stretch with a grace so practiced it becomes natural.

"Duck, I owe you so much," the Princess continues before receiving an answer. "Let me pay some of that back."

"Huh?" Duck jerks and falls out of her pose, her arms flailing as wings when landing. "Oh no, Rue, you don't have to do anything for me!"

But then Rue captures a flying wrist in her left hand, the metal of her wedding ring in sharp contrast to her soft palm.

"Duck, I want to do something for you the way you wanted to do something for me. We're friends, right?"

Duck tries to remember if Rue ever called them friends. It doesn't matter if she did; of course it doesn't because Rue said she loves her and Duck won't argue with that. But hearing Rue solidify it with words bolsters the girl's spirits.

Before any more time can be spent thinking on it, Rue releases Duck's wrist and circles her hands over her head, offering one to Duck.

"I know I'm not Princess Tutu. I don't think I can ever do this the way you can. But I'll try for you. So won't you dance with me?"

Duck stops just a moment before nodding and placing her hand in Rue's. It's easier this time, each gentle scrape of en pointe toes against the floor accenting the following sweeps of legs arching in arabesque. The thumps of rapid footsteps herald a grand jete from one young woman then the other.

"I can't talk the way Tutu does. I don't know how to be kind like her. I didn't know a thing about being kind until I met you, Duck. But you taught me more than anything else that it's all right to be yourself. I can be Rue and I can find happiness as Rue. And I want to help you find happiness as Duck."

Rue lifts Duck, the redhead looking down at her.

"Before we move forward, we have to know where we are."

She lowers her to the floor.

"Mixed up?" Rue suggests.

And it broke up her insides to see Duck cast her eyes down in response. Rue pulls her into a tight hug.

"You are good enough no matter what you're telling yourself," Rue says. "Whatever happened the other day has nothing to do with not being good or kind or beautiful because that's not true."

Duck grasps Rue's arm.

"It's not like Princess Tutu," Duck finally says in a miserable murmur.

"Hmm?" Rue hums while stroking the back of her head.

"There's more than one at a time."

Rue squeezes tighter with a soft, dry laugh. "I know. I know."

"Should I wait?"

Rue makes a snerk before going, "You should do nothing except what you really want to do. Even if I think you should have gone with your first reaction to follow Fakir home, call him a mean butt, and give him a good wallop. But what do you want to do that's just for you? Stay? Go? What will make you happy?"

Duck pulls away to scratch her head. What _will_ make her happy? Has she been doing anything for her own sake? Has she been doing anything that she actually wanted to do? And this thought strikes with the strength of lightning, throwing her hand to her mouth in a startling, "Quaaaack!"

Rue jumps just a hair. "What?"

"Rue, what've I been doing?" Duck asks, still-human arms flapping again. "I dunno what I've wanted to do or why I've been doing what I'm doing! It's like I was just running on ahead without knowing where I'm going! But then that's kinda like what I do anyways! But I think Fakir did what he did because he figured out the same thing and I just didn't catch on 'cause I'm just a moron like always-"

"Stop that," Rue says, grabbing Duck by the wrists again. "Don't say you're a moron like always. You knew more than I did before and you know more now."

"-but what," Duck presses on. "-what I mean, Rue, is I dunno why some things were more important than others and now I know they WEREN'T more important! They just seemed important 'cause we were here and we were doing what we're s'pposed to do! But now we know!"

Rue nods, almost getting it but somewhat lost in Duck's attempt to explain her epiphany. She doesn't get much time to try untangling the words as Duck throws her arms around her.

"Oh thank you Rue! You helped so much! You really did!" Duck cries, bouncing up and down and bobbing Rue with a vice-like grip.

"You're welcome?" she replies. "But what are you going to do?"

Duck slows at that. "Huh... I should do what I wanna do, right?"

"Yes."

"But how do I know what I wanna do while I'm here? What if it's another part of the story? Should I go somewhere else?" Duck wonders aloud.

Rue pats her arm. "If you want to go back to Gold Crown, you can. If that will help you make your decision, is that what you want?"

Duck scratches her head again. "I...I think so."

The Princess pulls her into another hug. "You can come back whenever you want. Even stay if you like. But if going to Gold Crown will help you, then that's what you'll do."

Duck hugs her back again and Rue smiles at the familiar affection from her dearest of friends.

_This is how Duck should be_, she thinks to herself.


End file.
